


Burning bridges.

by Kaesteranya



Category: D.Grayman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There wasn't anything to put an end to in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning bridges.

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the prompt “You who never arrived / in my arms, Beloved, who were lost from the start”. The title is taken from the theme for January 16, 2009.
> 
> Spoilers for Chapter 169 of the manga. And gay stuff.

Theirs was a relationship defined by General Cross Marian constantly coming and going and Director Komui Lee staying fixed in place, right where he was, waiting for the people he cared about to come back home in one piece. There had been no signs, no warning – it had just started with an unfortunate incident involving a stalled elevator in the Black Order Headquarters, Cross’ irritating habit of digging where he wasn’t supposed to dig and Komui realizing, distractedly, that the best way to shut the man up was to just punch him square in the mouth. The hitting had led to wall slamming which had somehow turned into them tangling together, groping and growling, trying to tear off as much of each other’s clothes as possible while touching every spare inch of skin.

 

They never formalized their arrangement, never talked about it: they kept running into each other the way they did, kept ending up sharing a bed or making love in some place away from the eyes of the others, and things eventually fell into place. Before either of them knew it, they had a routine, a pattern that both of them ended up following. Habits made men like them who they were – maintaining an almost-relationship was one of them.

 

Komui didn’t know when it stopped feeling like a matter of needing to fuck something and turned into another thing entirely. He preferred not to think about it because he knew that Cross wasn’t. He did not need one more burden on his shoulders, one more thing to weigh down his mind. He did not want to become someone whom someone else would end up waiting for. He also did not want to feel like he was just another person Cross had met down the road and decided that he liked enough to sleep with. Not asking meant never confirming it, and that, he felt, was enough to keep him sane.

 

When he had received the news of Cross Marian’s disappearance and suspected assassination, the first thing he did the moment the arrangements had been made was sit at his desk and open the top drawer on the right. There was a pack of cigarettes there, half-empty and a few days old – Cross had dropped it after their last fuck, and Komui had never bothered returning it. The general smoked like a chimney as it was, he figured. He was welcome to buy another, but he wasn’t going to support the habit by being nice enough to make it easy for him.

 

They tasted like shit, he realized belatedly, after putting one his lips, after lighting up and taking that deep, initial drag. Couldn’t imagine why any man could have such a deplorable habit. Later, he tells himself that his vision must be blurring because the wind’s coming in strong from the window, and he’s getting smoke in his eyes.


End file.
